Coffee & Cigarettes
by Lady Anarchy
Summary: [COMPLETED: 5.1.07] They both had an addiction they couldn't quit. Not tabacco. Not caffeine. Each other. One touch was all they needed. Just one more hit, one more sip, one last kiss.
1. Innocent Until Proven Guilty

**Standard Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me, the plot does.**

_Rated M for Language and Mature Sexual Content_

* * *

**I. Innocent Until Proven Guilty**

The rain was spattering against the streaked window she stared out of, bathed in the yellow light of an old street lamp. It was dark, just past midnight, and this was the last place she should have been.

Lifting one finger, she ran it down the greasy window pane. With a grimace she rubbed the layer of grime from her finger, flicked it from beneath the short nail.

She shouldn't have been there at that abandoned warehouse. She shouldn't have enjoyed the sex they had on the stale sheets that smelled of rotten cigarettes. . .that smelled of _him_. But Pan Son liked good sex, and the sex was always good.

That's why she kept coming back to him. It didn't even matter that they got it on in an abandoned warehouse on a lumpy mattress and cheap sheets. It didn't ruin the sex, that was for sure, nor did it make her feel like any less of a woman. Just because she was having sex on cotton and not silk, in a stingy warehouse and hot in a five-star hotel, didn't make her feel like a whore.

Even if the sex was with a married man.

With a sigh of impatience, Pan turned away from the dingy window and stared around at what had once served as an office. It was large, dusty, and made the hair on her arms stand on end. The mattress was nestled in the far corner, the white sheets a sharp contrast to the stark room. Unconsciously, she rubbed her arms through the cashmere of her sweater.

She should have been at home, asleep in her comfortable bed or running over her latest case at her desk and sipping coffee. She could work on a case through the night if her heart was in it, but he had called and she had come. So instead of interpreting the best way to lock away another criminal, Pan was waiting in an abandoned warehouse for a married man so they could have amazing sex.

She shivered in the chill of the empty room and turned away from the bed, which she had been staring at. She gasped when her gaze fell onto the doorway and the shadow that stirred there. She smelled the stench of his cigarette smoke before he stepped forward and into the slate of light that pierced through the grime of the window.

"You didn't wear your jacket, Counselor." His lips were curved in that arrogant smirk he was known for, that same smirk set in the face of a fallen angel. He never ceased to make her heart skip a beat. "It's cold, and I rather enjoy the look of you when you're dressed for court." He took a drag of his cigarette, held his hand to the side and flicked the ashes to the floor, all with a masculine grace that heconstantly seemed toemit.

His eyes skimmed over her body, undressing her. Pan shifted her stance out of habit and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "I forgot it," she said simply and moved her shoulders in dismissal. "I tend to lose my train of thought when you call me on such short notice. Wasn't it you who made the rules?" Her voice held an edge of heat now, her cat-like eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him. "Give at least 24 hours notice before we meet? You barely give me twenty minutes and then you show up late."

He took a step toward her, bringing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling again. He didn't break eye contact as he spoke, still smirking. "That's why I make the rules, Counselor, so I can break them." He turned his head to exhale the smoke away from her, then his cool gaze returned to her own. When she only pouted his smirk widened. "You haven't had your evening coffee, darling, you're irritable."

And because it was foolish of her not to have noticed the thermos in his hand before, she couldn't suppress the blush that crept into her cheeks as he held it out to her. She dropped her gaze when she snatched the coffee from his offering hand, folding her icy fingers around it and closing her eyes in a moment of bliss.

"I knew you'd come," he said quietly, and she opened her eyes to look at him. His smirk was gone, replaced by a thoughtful look as he studied her, the cigarette smoldering between his fingers. He reached out to tug a long strand of her hair and she felt the familiar lurch in her stomach. "You never could resist me, Counselor." The smirk flashed again and she jerked back on impulse. The strand of hair fell from his fingers, but he simply smiled.

"And you could never resist anything with tits and an ass," she snapped. The icy retort was always her first reaction to his arrogant comments. But he merely chuckled, taking a longer pull from his cigarette and exhaling the smoke over her head as he stepped toward her again.

"You're right, darling, I couldn't. Especially yours." He reached out again, but this time he feathered his free hand down the side of her breast.

Pan's eyes automatically slid closed and she barely swallowed a moan.

"Funny," she said after a moment, swallowing hard. "I always thought your wife had a better rack then I did." Her eyes opened and she had to tilt her head back to look at him. He was smiling again, his fingers still lingering along the side of her breast.

"Bigger isn't always better, Counselor." He took one final pull from his cigarette before flicking it to the floor and toeing it out. He reached down and plucked the untouched coffee from her hands and set it on the desk beside them. He closed the remaining distance between them and slid one hand into her hair, the other toyed with a belt loop on her trousers. "Marron is all show. She certainly wouldn't agree to have sex in a place like this, even if I do own it. She lacks a sense of. . .Adventure," he decided and easily undid the button of her trousers.

"I'm not sure if I'd call what we do adventurous," Pan murmured, reaching up to tug at his tie.

"Mm-hm." He bent his head, capturing her full bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently. "What would you call it then, Counselor?" He asked as he released her lip and kissed her jaw, sliding his hands around to cup her ass and pull her against him.

She arched her hips at the contact, all but purring against his ear. "I'd call it illegal, Mr. Briefs," she with a low, throaty chuckle.

"Well, you're the lady of the court," he said, toying with the hem of her sweater. "You have a better sense of the law then I do." The zipper of her trousers were the next to fall victim to his poetic fingers. "However, I believe you're as guilty as I am in this current circumstance."

Pan gave a seductive chuckle, yanking his tie over his head and tossing it aside. "You know how the old saying goes, Trunks: Innocent until proven guilty."

"I love it when you speak in legal terms, Counselor," he murmured against her lips and gave her no chance to respond as he closed his mouth over her own.

She moaned and arched into his embrace, weaving her fingers into his short hair. His hands slid around her hips to cup her ass and lift her easily into his arms. Her slender legs banded around his hips and held tight.

He tasted of sin, that was the only way she could describe it. The taste of tobacco was barely there, disguised by power and pure masculinity. Only the wealthiest man in the world could make a disgusting habit look good.

His lips trailed to her neck and she swung her head to the side, allowed him to find her throbbing pulse and nip it so it stuttered against his lips. He moved with a subtle grace, even when he carried her, as he walked toward the mattress.

He dropped to his knees, laying Pan back as he simply gazed down at her. Her black eyes were lidded, the swatch of siren red lace taunting him from the opened front of her trousers. With a small smile, he hooked his fingers at her hips and easily dragged them from her body.

Trunks traced his fingers up her milky thighs to her hips, hooking a finger in the edge of her panties and tugging them down to get a better look at the tattoo of the dragon that rested there.

Pan chuckled, shifted her hips. "Careful, he bites."

Trunks smirked, let the panties snap back into place as he returned his gaze to her own. "So do I," he replied, and pulled her up so he could kiss her and tug her sweater over her head. He smiled as he traced the patterns of the black lace that covered her breasts. Red and black, the colors of seduction. . .

He welcomed the roughness of her kiss as she peeled his blazer from his shoulders, then tugged at the buttons of his shirt with those nimble fingers. She fumbled once, cursed against his lips, and yanked his shirt open and off his shoulders. The remaining buttons skittered across the dusty floor.

Fueled by her impatience, Trunks pushed Pan back onto the mattress and kissed her, pressing his hips into her own as her legs opened for him. She moaned, arched, and he slid one hand around her back to unclasp her bra. He peeled it from her body, tossed it aside and simply feasted with his eyes for a moment.

She watched his eyes darken and felt the throb against her hips, saw the tension in his arms as he suspended himself over her. She pushed herself up, caught his bottom lip between her teeth. "Like what you see?" She murmured, sliding a hand into his hair and pulling him in for a kiss.

He indulged in her for a moment, in the sexy glide of her tongue and the pull of her lips, gliding his fingers over the smooth skin of her waist. "I always do," he responded when their lips parted. He slid a hand upward, watched her eyes go opaque as he cupped a breast. Her head fell back and the moan slipped from her lips. He caught a nipple in his mouth as he lay her back on the mattress, sucking gently and hearing her whimper.

Her legs flexed around him and he grunted, bit gently on her nipple in response. She ground her hips against him and he moaned, sitting back and undoing his belt, then his trousers as well. Her hand fell over his as he was about to stand and dispose of them.

Their eyes met and Pan smirked, getting to her knees and shifting closer to Trunks. One hand slipped around his neck, bringing his lips to hers, and the other slid into his pants. His breath shuddered out as she closed her fingers around him. "Let me," she murmured, and nipped at his lips.

Her mouth trailed down over his chest and it took all of Trunks's will not to pitch forward when her mouth closed around him. He moaned and closed his eyes, threading his fingers through her hair. That sweet little mouth was as good at playing a jury into her hands as it was at pleasing him. And she was damn good with a jury.

The hot friction of her mouth felt so good it was almost more than Trunks could take. The glide of her tongue, the constricting of her throat as she took all of him in, the tug of her tiny hands. He felt the ends begin to fray, felt his body go tense, then he pulled away with a shudder, shoving her roughly onto the mattress.

Trunks kicked his pants away and lowered himself over Pan, who licked her lips and proceeded to look smug. He smiled, slipped his fingers into the waist of her panties, and watched the smirk slip from her lips as he ripped them clean off her hips.

She reared up, eyes blazing. "Trunks! What the hell? Those were–" He cut her off as he grabbed her hips and slammed himself into her. She fell back into the mattress, her moan mixing with his as her body went taut around him.

Trunks lowered his lips to Pan's, but he didn't kiss her. He watched her closed eyes as her breath came in pants, mingling with his own. Her body flexed around his, thrusting her hips as she coiled around him, all velvety heat.

It had been too long since he had had her like this. He buried his face in her shoulder, breathed her scent, and took the first thrust. The rest came automatically, an unforgettable rhythm. She moaned against his ear, nails digging into his back as her slim hips flexed in time with his.

The sweet friction of flesh on flesh, of his body inside her own, battered his senses and he went harder. There was none of the love he showed with his wife; this was sex, raw sex.

When she moaned his name it was not out of love, but lust, passion. When her body shuddered, went taut, then lax, it was a gasp of fulfillment that shuddered from her lips. He followed suit as her body softened around him, teasing out his orgasm.

He collapsed onto her, his body pressing her own into the lumpy, stale mattress. Her hands slipped from his back to lay limply by her sides. He breathed in her scent, one that wasn't quite feminine, and felt himself stir again.

He held her to him and rolled them over. Pan pushed herself up on his chest, dragging her hair out of her face as she smiled lazily down at him. He smirked back, shifting and watching her eyes close as he moved within her.

She reached up and rubbed the gold wedding band that adorned his ring finger. Trunks raised an eyebrow at the action, but Pan only smiled. "Marron has good taste." She tapped the ring with her nail, then rolled off of him, detaching her body from his own.

Trunks brought his left hand forward so he could study the gold band. "Maybe," he said, giving a thoughtful frown. "But gold was never really my color."

Pan snorted, scooting to the edge of the bed to retrieve her tattered panties. "Speaking of which," she said, lifting the massacred underwear with a grimace, "she's probably wondering where you are." She looked over her shoulder at him, the panties dangling from one finger. "And you owe me a pair of panties. These things don't come cheap, you know."

Trunks smirked, shifted to his side so he could get a better look at her. He reached out and took the panties from her. "I'll buy you a truck load of these if you come back to bed."

Pan smiled, wet her lips. "Bribing a court official is a serious offense," she said, already making her way back toward him.

"I'll risk it," he murmured, tossing the panties aside and opening his mouth to greet her own as she straddled him.

* * *

_Well, this had originally been planned as a one shot, but with some encouragement from a friend I decided to make it a chaptered story. So you get the juicy stuff first._

_This is a bit darker than the others, so there will be more "I hate you"s that "I love you"s. Consider yourselves warned._

(P.S.: _Mad props to_ **Ash & Sorrow** _for her help with this chapter's ending. This is the only one I've been truly satisfied with in ages.)_


	2. The Accused

_Rated M for Language and Mature Sexual Content_

* * *

**II. The Accused**

He should have been working. Filing papers, bossing his secretary around, making important phone calls. He should have been doing anything but think about _her_.

Dragging both hands through his hair, Trunks leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, thankful he was alone. It was only when he was alone that he would allow himself to behave like this, to drop his defenses and think about this woman who was slowly beginning to work her way into his dreams.

That wasn't good.

Married men were suppose to dream about their wives, not about the sexy women they were fucking on the side. And fucking was really the only word for it. They never made love and they certainly weren't _in love_. Trunks loved his wife, but lust was a totally different issue. It was like the difference between hot and cold.

Marron Briefs was the picture of a perfect wife. She was beautiful, faithful, smart, funny, and she loved him.

Pan Son was the picture of a perfect mistress. She was sexy, racy, smart, funny, adventurous, and she wanted him for nothing more than his body. And it was this fact that made him want her so desperately, made him fantasize about her while he should have been working.

Pan was the opposite to Marron and a mirror of himself as he had once been; rebellious, cocky, and hungry for nothing more than a quick fuck with no strings attached. Then Marron had waltzed into his life, all flowers and honey. She had showed him the softer side of sex and relationships and had ultimately showed him how to fall in love.

He didn't regret marrying Marron, he had convinced himself of that. He was in love with her and it was pure infatuation that drove him back to Pan. There had never been a time when he had considered leaving his wife for Pan. Not only did Trunks not want that, but neither did Pan. The city's leading prosecuting attorney didn't have time for complicated relationships. Her job ruled her life and that was the way she wanted it. Heating the sheets with the world's richest man was just for fun.

And that was all he wanted as well, Trunks told himself as he scrubbed his hands over his face. Any man in his right mind would want the same thing from Pan. She was exceptional in bed, willing to try something new, and she certainly didn't object to fucking in a dirty old warehouse on an uncomfortable mattress.

Marron was beautiful and Pan was sexy.

Trunks hadn't realized there was a difference until he had started his affair with Pan.

He remembered how they had met. It had been through Marron, which made him laugh now. His wife had introduced them at one of those fancy parties that he hated attending but was often forced to do so to keep up his image. He supposed that Marron had befriended Prosecuting Attorney Pan Son in hopes that if Trunks's company ever got tangled up with the law he'd have a way of squeezing out of it without much trouble.

It would pay to have the city's leading PA in his pocket. But it was even better to have her in his pants.

Trunks could remember her exactly as she was that night, a glass of champagne in her hand, her hair pulled up in some fancy twist, framing her face and teasing her shoulders where it had been let down. She had been wearing green, a forest green dress with that naughty slit up her right leg. It reached her hip, if he remembered correctly; and it was the first place that had drawn his eyes after he had managed to get past her face.

Those cat-like eyes, outlined in smoky black and deep green to match her dress. Her lips had been painted with a simple gloss, and had a sharper look to them than his wife's did. They were the kind of lips that always seemed to be smirking, the kind of lips that could find that certain spot and make a man shiver.

She was shorter than his wife, but they were both equally as slender, though Pan's physique and posture screamed athlete. Marron was slim in the rich type of way, taught how to present herself and told how she should look. Pan was different. Her style was roguish compared to other women at the party she radiated sexuality, whilst the other women had been more subdued.

He remembered that she had been dateless, the only one at the party who had come alone. She pulsed with confidence beneath the sexuality, and that was another thing which had attracted him to her.

They had shaken hands, holding on for seconds longer than was necessary, had barely had to make eye contact to know what each thought of the other. But Marron had noticed nothing, she had always trusted her husband.

They had both heard of each other before, seen each other on television countless times. Pan's business was murder and his was money. She preferred dealing with criminals, she had told him when Marron had left them to chat. She thought it was more exciting, you could never get bored when you were dealing with a man who had blood on his hands.

And he wouldn't forget the first time he had made her laugh, that smokey chuckle that seemed to hang in the hair, seducing you and fogging your mind until you couldn't think straight anymore.

It had only been hours after they had met each other that were fucking against the door of his hotel room, unable to make it to the bed.

Marron had gone home, leaving Trunks in the city as he had a meeting to attend to early that morning.

It had made him feel reckless, to have his way with a woman he barely knew, to tear her clothes away and put his hands on her body, make her moan his name.

Trunks couldn't remember how many times they had done it, the sessions blurred together. He only knew that he had slept very little and went to his meeting feeling very tired but oddly relaxed. He had barely felt guilty for cheating on Marron, the sex had been too good to feel guilty about. Of course he knew that he shouldn't have done it, but he certainly didn't regret it.

Pan had been adventurous, even dominant on that night, whispering things that Marron would never even think, letting him take her in positions that would make Marron blush.

He made love to Marron, but he certainly fucked Pan.

That had been six months ago. They had continued seeing each other sporadically so Marron wouldn't pick up on a pattern. He often did have late nights at the office, as his work was demanding. Marron had never questioned any of them.

Trunks's intercom beeped at that moment, jerking him from his reverie.

"What?" he snapped as he slammed his finger onto the call button.

"Your wife is here to see you, Mr. Briefs," came his secretary's voice, smooth and calm as always, unperturbed by his snappish demands.

"Send her in," Trunks said, forcing himself to calm down. He was thinking about fucking Pan while his wife was on her way to see him. Lovely.

He stood up and straightened his blazer, ready to welcome Marron with a kiss. However, he sat down again when Marron breezed in, temper etched across her face. She slammed the door and glared at him for a moment.

Trunks opened his mouth, then closed it again, deciding it was best not to speak. Marron was angry, that much he gathered from the icy glint in her blue eyes and the thin line her lips had formed. So instead of speaking he tried a smile.

"Don't try to charm your way out of this, Trunks," Marron snapped, stepping away from the door and approaching his desk. The smile slipped from his lips and he cleared his throat, racking his brain for some occasion that he might have missed. Discovering none, he spoke.

"What's wrong, Marron?"

"You know damn well what's wrong, Trunks," she sneered, suddenly reminding him of Pan. Marron scarcely lost her temper, and it had been ages since he had seen fire smouldering in her eyes.

"No, darling, I don't think I do," he said calmly, not getting up from his seat but watching her closely from where he sat. He was tense, worried about what her last words might mean. But she couldn't know about Pan, they had been too careful.

"Don't _darling_ me, Trunks," she spat. "Five a.m. _Five a.m_. What in Christ's name could you be doing here until five in the fucking morning?" She lifted her arms, a gesture which encompassed his office.

Cursing, another bad sign. Her temper was through the roof and she had resorted to cursing at him. He didn't feel threatened quite yet, though. She may have been spitting fire, but he knew the soft side of his wife too well. Standing there, hair and make-up done, clothes immaculate, flowery scent wafting towards him, Marron Briefs appeared anything but threatening.

"I had a conference via phone in America, Marron. You know what the time difference is, it's the other side of the damn world," he said, doing his best to sound irritated. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "You know my job is demanding, you accepted that when you married me."

"Well it was a hell of a lot less demanding when we were newlyweds." She was close to yelling now. "These late nights have become more frequent and they're later every time. Christ, maybe I should just move in here with you, then maybe I'd get to see you for more than a few hours a day."

There was hurt smouldering under the anger now and Trunks felt the sharp pangs of guilt in his gut. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. But he was snapped from his thoughts in a few seconds, when Marron spoke again, her voice low and icy now.

"I don't even know if this where you are during all those _late nights_. Maybe you're out fooling around–"

"I WOULDN'T LIE TO YOU!" he yelled, leaping from his seat. Marron didn't flinch, but merely stared back at him, anger and hurt simmering in her eyes.

They stared at each other for several moments, neither daring to speak. Then Marron nodded slowly, still not breaking eye contact.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," she whispered, then she turned and strolled out of his office without a backward glance.

Trunks remained standing, even after his office door had slammed shut. Then he dropped back into his seat. He rubbed his temples, realizing his mistake.

His meetings with Pan _had_ become more frequent. He was always desperate to see her, just as he had before Marron had showed u today. He had been arranging their meetings more often over the last month, still sporadically, but more often. A week, ten days, six days, four days. It had started out as a monthly thing, and now they were seeing each other on nearly a weekly basis.

Though it still shouldn't have raised Marron's suspicions that much. He often did need to stay at the office several nights a week in order to close business deals and check up on his companies on the other side of the planet. But those meeting rarely ran past one a.m. He supposed last time had been the final straw for Marron. He and Pan hadn't parted ways until nearly four a.m., and then it had taken him close to an hour to drive home. He should have left when Pan had said that Marron was probably getting worried.

That meeting had been spur of the moment and it had been past twelve when they had finally met. He had been wanting her all day and had made the late phone call to suggest the meeting. She had pretended to be annoyed, but he knew she wouldn't say no.

He heaved a sigh, wishing desperately for a cigarette. His gaze fell on the phone, and after several minutes of struggling with himself, he snatched up the receiver and dialed the number.

A deafening silence engulfed the room as it rang. Then the connection clicked on.

"Counselor, we need to talk."

_---_

Trunks sat at the sticky bar, tapping the ashes of his cigarette into an already overflowing ashtray. The barman was missing several teeth and was polishing a glass with a rag that look as though it had never been washed.

It was mid-afternoon and the crowd was sparse, though Trunks was sure the dingy pub wouldn't have been packed regardless of the occasion. A grubby looking, unshaven man sat in a booth at the far end of the pub, his stained ball cap pulled low and his greasy hands cupping the tall glass of beer; the plastic jug sat next to him on the table, half-empty.

The other occupants included a middle-aged couple who were arguing over money in whispers in a booth near the door, a greying man who was mumbling into his scotch at the far end of the bar, and Trunks himself, looking seriously out of place in his pressed suit.

He took a long drag from his cigarette as the barman continued to polish the same glass with the filthy rag and stare at Trunks through narrowed eyes.

The door of the pub creaked open and Trunks glanced over as he exhaled. Pan stood in the doorway, dressed in a black suit and heels. The only color in her outfit was the sunset orange blouse she wore beneath the blazer. Her dark eyes traveled around the pub, eyebrows raised in detached interest. Her gaze fell onto Trunks and she shot him a dry smile before she approached, her heels clicking across the scarred hardwood floor.

She slid onto the stool next to him, placing her purse on the bar. Her dark eyes fell on the barman, who had stopped polishing his glass and was currently surveying Pan with interest.

"Classy place," she said dryly, turning to Trunks. "You keep pampering me like this and I might ask you to leave Marron."

"That's what I'm here to talk to you about, Counselor," he said, stamping out the butt of his cigarette before pulling another from the package that sat in front of him on the bar.

"You're chain smoking," she said, watching him. "You only do that when you're pissed off." She looked up and down the bar, studied the dusty bottles that lined the wall in front of her. "Do you think they have anything to drink in this place that won't poison me?" she asked him, obviously unconcerned that he wanted to talk about Marron.

"She accused me of cheating when she barged into my office this morning."

"Hm," she murmured, eyeing the scotch through narrowed eyes. "It's a good thing we weren't fucking on your desk, then."

Trunks rolled his eyes and exhaled his smoke in Pan's face. She gagged, coughed, and glared at him through watery eyes. "Alright, keep that cancer to yourself. So she accused you of fooling around, I can assume you denied it."

"Of course I denied it," he said, taking another heavy drag. "That doesn't mean she believed me. She said _we'll see about that_." Her words were still echoed through his mind and the chill in her voice made him want to shiver.

"Wow, a threat. I didn't know Marron was capable of threatening anyone, especially her rich husband," Pan said, still sounding thoroughly unconcerned to Trunks's ears. "It's your precious little wife we're talking about here, Trunks. She's not going to run to the media and announce that she _thinks_ her husband is fucking around on her. If your image gets sucked down the toilet hers goes with it. She has no proof, Trunks, there isn't really much she can do. I think you're overreacting."

She was indulging him because he had been worried, and he appreciated that. She did have a point, though. Marron had no proof that he was fooling around on her, and going to the media with an accusation like that would be bad for the both of them. But still. . .

He took a long drag from his cigarette, willing himself to calm down. For once smoking wasn't settling his nerves.

"Please remember this is Marron we're talking about here," Pan said, taking the cigarette from his fingers and stabbing it out in the ashtray. "She organizes and attends charitable auctions for the fun of it. She loves you and your money too much to chance fucking it up over something like this."

Trunks stared at her for a moment. "I'm still not sure, Pan. She sounded serious about digging deeper. Maybe we should. . .stop seeing each other for a while."

She didn't flinch at the suggestion, merely continued to stare at him. Then she slid off her stool and stepped between his legs, placing her hands on his thighs. Her scent filled the air around him, stirring things within him that Macron's flowery smell did not.

"Maybe," she said quietly, "but I doubt it." She kissed him lightly once, twice, then took him deeper with the third one, guiding him in a gut-wrenching kiss, her nails digging gently into his thighs.

"I think we're both in too deep to back out now," she said against his lips, her taste lingering there. Her nails pinched into his thighs once more before she stepped back and grabbed her purse from the bar. "But it's up to you," she said, wetting her lips as she swung the purse over her shoulder and dragged a hand through her hair. "You know how to reach me." She turned and left without a backward glance.

Trunks watched her go, unable to prevent his gaze from trailing to her hips. He sighed again, knowing she was right, and picked up his half-finished cigarette as the pub door shut with a bang.

"Nice ass," the barman said gruffly, and Trunks looked over at him as he flicked his lighter open.

"Don't I know it."

* * *

_Well, it's been a while and I apologize. November is the month from hell at university and I'm still trying to get my bearings. I'm smack in the middle of exams right now, but I couldn't prevent myself from writing this. So even if I fail math at least I can come home, read this chapter, and feel happy again. I'm very pleased with the way this turned out and I hope you all like it as well._

_This whole story is outlined, so hopefully I'll be able to finish it without much trouble. I should have a T/P Christmas one shot posted after I get these exams off my back, so look out for that._


	3. The Burden of Proof

_Rated M for Language and Mature Sexual Content_

* * *

**III. The Burden of Proof**

_Psychopathic tendencies, known sociopath, numerous attempts at suicide. Deemed unfit to stand trial._

Pan Son thought it was a load of bullshit.

She pulled the ball point pen out of her mouth, realizing she had been chewing on the end once again. She frowned at the mangled tip before dropping it into the waste basket beside her desk and selecting another from the dozens in front of her. A pen in the hands of Pan Son never lasted more than a week.

The un-chewed pen immediately found its way to her lips after several more minutes of reading, and after several unconscious chews she dropped it on her desk, opting it was time she bought a coffee before she ate through her entire stash of pens.

She stared down at the case file for another moment, wondering if it was worth ordering a psychiatric evaluation by one of her firm's staff. The results may find the accused fit to stand trial, but she doubted a second opinion would outweigh the current one. The accused had deep pockets, and if you paid a doctor enough they would tell a judge you were "mentally unstable" when you to stabbed your wife 17 times and then buried her body in your own backyard.

Pan didn't think he was mentally unstable, she thought he was just stupid.

With a sigh she pushed herself to her feet and closed the manila folder, stacking it with the others on her cluttered desk. There were no picture frames, but there were many coffee mugs housing a variety of cheap, plastic ballpoint pens in a rainbow of colors. On impulse she reached down and picked up the ugly purple one that had come free in one package or another.

She had intended to throw it away, but it bore a striking resemblance to Trunks's hair and she had kept it as a souvenir, for lack of a better word. It was pathetic, really, and if Trunks ever found out he would tease her until he was blue in the face. Pan didn't know why, but she didn't have the heart to chuck the pen in the trash. Which was really where it belonged, because who the hell had a use for a purple pen?

With a snort and a shake of her head Pan placed the pen back in a coffee mug and stepped out from behind her desk. Her intercom beeped just as she was pulling her jacket from the coat rack in the corner.

"Ms. Son, Marron Briefs is here to see you."

Pan raised her eyebrows, hands on the collar of her coat. Irony was a bitch. Here was Marron, wishing to speak with her, when Pan was having inappropriate fantasies about her husband. She smiled, left her coat where it was, and started toward her desk again. She dropped into her chair and pressed the flashing button on her intercom.

"Send her in."

Pan was curious as to what exactly Marron wanted, but wasn't overly concerned. She didn't doubt it had something to do with some posh affair Marron was holding and wanted Pan to make an appearance at. They weren't friends, and Pan had a feeling the only reason she introduced Pan to Trunks was incase her husband got into legal trouble.

_Joke's on you_, Pan thought. _I'm fucking your husband behind your back, honey_.

Pan smiled, but it faltered the moment Marron burst into her office and Pan realized the woman's intention was not to discuss formal parties.

The heavy door snapped against the wall as Marron strode in, eyes blazing as they fell upon Pan. The PA raised her eyebrows at the blonde, whose lips were contorted in a look of disgust.

"Hello, Marron, what can I–"

"Don't give me that bullshit, you cheating bitch!" Marron sneered, stepping forward.

Pan ignored her words, noting the manila envelope clutched in one manicured hand. She glanced past the irrate wife and her eyes fell on her secretary, who was standing in the doorway, eyes-wide. Their gaze met and the horrified woman opened her mouth to speak, but Pan beat her to it.

"Close the door, Hirame, everything's fine," Pan said calmly. Her composure hadn't slipped in the slightest, even though Marron's words insinuated that nothing was fine and she wouldn't want to see the contents of that envelope.

Pan got to her feet after Hirame had closed the door and strode past Marron. She flicked the lock on the door and turned back to the blonde. They studied each other for a moment. Marron's blue eyes were heated with a furious fire, but behind that Pan saw the hurt, the betrayal. She was trained to read people, but Pan didn't think you would have needed a law degree to see the turmoil smoldering in those blue eyes.

"Give me the envelope, Marron," Pan said flatly, holding out one hand. Pan saw the struggle here as well. Marron wanted an apology. Well, she wasn't going to get it.

The blonde's arm shook as she held out the envelope and Pan nipped it from her fingers. She flicked the folder open and tipped it. A stack of photos fell against her palm. She grasped the photos and dropped the envelope to the floor without a second thought.

Her gaze didn't flicker, her calm expression didn't waver.

The first few pictures were innocent enough. Pan remembered the scenarios; meeting Trunks at a corner deli to discuss some legal troubles one of his employees was having; meeting him while she was leaving the office just the other day. These photos weren't incriminating, it was the ones that followed that were the nail in her coffin.

The photos were all in black and white but Pan recognized the location immediately. It was outside the warehouse where she had been meeting Trunks for the past year. She was emerging from the warehouse in one photo; Trunks was emerging after her in another; his hand on her arm, tugging her close; his lips pressing against her own, his hand on the small of her back, in her hair.

Pan turned her gaze on Marron. The blonde was staring at her, hands clenched tightly at her sides. Her blue eyes were staring unblinkingly into Pan's, waiting for her response.

Pan glanced down at the photos, then lifted a shoulder.

"Game over. What do you plan to with these, Marron?" she asked, glancing up in time to see Marron's face slacken in disbelief. Her painted mouth opened and closed several times before she managed to speak.

"You're sleeping with my husband and that's all you have to say? _Game over?_" Marron took a step forward, her voice and body betraying her intention. Her voice was shaking and Pan could see the tears brimming her eyes.

"What are you going to do with the photos?" Pan repeated, ignoring Marron's words.

"I–I'll–Go to the press with them!" Marron spluttered, frustrated and angry.

Pan chuckled, stooping to pick up the envelope she had discarded earlier. She tucked the photos back into the envelope and held it out to Marron.

"Go ahead, then. If Trunks' reputation goes to the dogs so does yours." Pan crossed her arms, walked past Marron and stood behind her desk. She didn't sit. "Is that how you want to be known, Marron? The wife who couldn't keep her billionaire husband happy, couldn't satisfy him in bed so he had to go elsewhere? The media will eat up a story like that and you'll get more

negative press than either of us. I'm used to negative media attention from court cases, Marron, the worst you've had to deal with is whether or not the parties and auctions you throw are duds.

"I'll survive an attack from the media, but whether or not your marriage will is a different story." Pan sat down, satisfied with the torn look on Marron's face. She was confident that she'd survive

the repercussions if her affair with Trunks went public. It would look worse on the couple than it would on her. Pan only knew that she wasn't going to surrender to Marron.

"Our marriage will be fine. Trunks loves me."

She didn't sound convinced.

Pan sighed. "Look, Marron, I'm not your friend, I never was. You only invited me to that ridiculous party so you and Trunks could get on my good side incase his fucking company ran into legal trouble." Marron looked taken aback. "I'm not stupid," Pan continued, getting to her feet again. "So now he gets legal advice plus a little something on the side. I don't believe in Karma, Marron, but this whole thing has come full circle to bite you in the ass. If you hadn't been so eager to shove me at Trunks and insist we become buddies then we wouldn't be standing here arguing over this and you'd have your husband to yourself."

"You can't blame this on me!" Marron yelled, stepping forward. "You're the one who went to bed with him. You're the one who's–"

"Well don't fucking blame it on me, then!" Pan challenged, eyes igniting. Marron retreated a step back as Pan rounded her desk in what seemed like one stride. "Trunks is the one who came onto me, who put his hands on me, and then came back for more. I barely know you, Marron, and just because Trunks was married to you didn't make me think twice about jumping into bed with him. If you want to blame someone, then blame Trunks or yourself. But don't throw this shit in my face, any other woman would have done the same thing, including yourself."

"I love him, does that mean anything to you!" Marron yelled, her voice catching on a sob. Pan watched as she wiped her arm over her eyes, smearing makeup. "Does that fucking mean anything to you? I married him, I love him, and then he goes behind my back with a woman like _you_. You've never been in a serious relationship in your life! And if it wasn't Trunks you were screwing it would be some other one night stand!"

Marron's tears and hysterics did nothing to cushion the blow of those words. They stung, made her want to look away, but she didn't. Pan stared hard at Marron, the only sign that she'd even heard the blonde's tirade was the tight, menacing look in her eyes.

"Get out before I throw you out," she said quietly. Her nails were digging into her palms and the urge to throw a punch into Marron's streaked face was almost unbearable.

"I'll go to the media and I'll tell Trunks I know about the affair if you don't break it off with him." It was Marron's turn to ignore Pan's words.

"We already went over this, Marron, you aren't taking those pictures to the press." Her voice was still quiet but her arms were shaking at her sides, desperate to let go and lash out.

"What if I tell them I'm pregnant, then what? Then I'm the victim, and you're the bitch who tried to tear my marriage apart. Could you handle it then, Pan?"

Pan's composure wavered for a moment, but she caught herself before she lost it completely. "It makes no difference to me whether he was screwing you as well, Marron."

But she felt the twinge of pain, the shock. Was she really pregnant, did Trunks sleep with Macron frequently even after the affair had begun? The obvious answer was yes. Trunks loved his wife, Pan knew that, but for some reason it was still a shock.

"It's over, Marron, you knew that the moment you walked through my door with those pictures." Her voice was tense, her hands clenched painfully at her sides. "Now get out of my face." Pan turned her back on Marron and sat herself down behind her desk. She didn't look up, but pulled a case file toward her. She opened it, not seeing the name on the front, and stared at the papers inside, not seeing the words on the page.

After several moments Marron's heels clicked across the tile of her office and the door closed with a slam.

Pan closed her eyes, the only sign of defeat.

She stayed like that for several minutes, head bent and eyes closed. She didn't even open her eyes when the door clicked open. It was Hirame.

"Ms. Son?" The question was timid, concerned.

"It's all right, Hirame. I'm fine. It's past supper time now, you can go home." Pan spoke without opening her eyes, her voice flat.

The door closed with a quiet click and Pan let out a heavy sigh. Her shoulders slumped as she sat behind her cluttered desk, face in her hands.

---

The sky behind Pan was dark, lit only by the lights of the city. The cup of coffee sitting next to her was ice-cold and she had chewed through nearly an entire box of pens over the past few hours. The same folder she had opened before Marron had left lay in front of her, undisturbed. She had been staring at the door, thinking about nothing and everything.

The affair was over, it was finished. Pan didn't believe Marron had lied to her about the pregnancy, she wasn't that desperate. Besides, Trunks would have been upset that she had lied to regain is attention. And Pan didn't doubt he wanted children.

With a sigh she closed the folder and leaned back in her chair. Good times never lasted long and she was a fool for thinking that her affair with Trunks could go on for much longer. He had been right, their meetings were no longer few and far between, but frequent and almost on a regular basis. Now they were finished. Over. Done.

It was so final. But it was no one's fault but their own. She should have paid attention to Trunks when he told her that Marron was becoming suspicious. She shouldn't have underestimated Marron and the steps she would take to ensure that her husband was being faithful.

Maybe Marron was right, maybe Pan didn't know enough about relationships to understand the feelings of a desperate wife. What would she have done if Trunks had been her husband?

Pan thought about it for several moments and came up with no real answer.

She'd be upset, of course, probably as pissed off as Marron had been. But would she have hired someone to follow Trunks and photograph anything incriminating? Probably not. She would have been more violent with the mistress than Marron had been with her. She would have thrown punches, scratched, and kicked until she was satisfied that the woman had gotten the message to stay away from her husband.

Maybe that was why she wasn't married.

Pan closed her eyes and shook her head, rubbed at the dull throb between her eyebrows.

She barely looked up when voices raised outside her door and Trunks slammed into her room, a security guard hot on his heels.

"Sir, you can't–Ms. Son, I'm sorry, I couldn't–"

"It's alright, I know him." Pan waved the guard off and he closed the door as he left, leaving her alone with Trunks.

They stared at each other without speaking. Each of them had too much to say and no way of saying it. They knew their affair was over, there was no way to repair the damage. Trunks stared at her from across the room and Pan stared back, still seated at her desk.

"She's pregnant."

"I know."

"She was here?"

"Yes."

"The pictures?"

"I saw them."

Pan rubbed her hands across her face and shifted in her seat with a heavy sigh. "Why are you here, Trunks?"

He opened his mouth, but decided his answer didn't suffice so he remained silent.

"It's over, you know that. You've seen the pictures and I don't doubt she's told you she'll go to the press if we don't end this. I told her it was over, that I wouldn't see you again. And here you are, barging into my office at nearly midnight."

"I tried to barge into your house but you weren't there. What the hell are you still doing here, anyway?"

"I was... That's beside the point. You shouldn't be here." She got to her feet and rounded her desk. "What did you do, run out on her after she told you she was pregnant?"

"No, of course I didn't! She was asleep when I left."

_We had sex before I left_. He didn't have to say it, Pan knew it was true. And she hated herself for being angry.

"Well you should probably get back before she wakes up." She could feel the chill in her own voice and she saw his eyes soften with pity. If there was one thing Pan hated it was pity, and she hated herself for letting her emotions leak into her voice.

"Look, Trunks, we got caught red-handed. We–I underestimated Marron, and it makes no difference anyway. You're going to be a father. Congratulations." She regained her composure and maintained it even when his eyes lit up with pride.

"We had fun, and that's all that matters."

They stood in silence once again, staring at each other, each waiting for the other to make a move.

Trunks closed the distance between them, cupped her cheek with one palm, and kissed her chastely on the lips. Pan closed her eyes as his lips lingered only seconds longer than was appropriate.

"I'll miss you." He said, brushing his thumb across her cheek as he stepped back.

"Yeah." It was all she could manage.

Nothing more was said as Trunks turned and left. He looked back only once when he reached the door. Then he was gone.

It was alright that their affair was over, Pan had convinced herself to accept that.

She just wished he hadn't kissed her goodbye.

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_Augh, I'm sorry. It's been nearly 2 months since my last update. The first half of this chapter was written just after Christmas. I hit a dry spell the entire month of January. Honestly, I haven't written anything since the last week in December. It's been brutal. The next update probably won't come until March. University is riding my ass._

_Read and Review, please. And I hope this wasn't too unbearable._


	4. 25 to Life

For **Clara**, because without her T/P fiction the second and third portions of this chapter would not exist. So go read her stuff, because it's awesome. Especially the new addition, _Love Her Madly_. You can find the link to her work on my Favorite Authors page. Shameless plugging. Everyone's doing it.

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_Rated M for Language and Mature Sexual Content_

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**IV. 25 to Life**

_5 Years Later..._

The sun was searing her eyelids and her head was pounding.

"Good morning, Counselor."

It was Trunks who was whispering in her ear, whose arm was draped casually across her naked waist, whose morning stubble was scraping across her cheek as he shifted to kiss her.

Then she opened her eyes.

A dull throb was beating a constant tattoo against the back of her eyebrows. The man next to her wasn't Trunks. His hair was dark, spilling into a pair of green eyes. A day's stubble surrounded a mouth that was kissing it's way along the swell of her breasts.

He had called her Counselor. Trunks was the only one who had ever called her Counselor on a personal basis.

"Have a good time last night, Pan?" He murmured, nibbling at her throat as his hands trailed across her waist.

His touch wasn't turning her on. Maybe because she was too preoccupied with trying to remember his name.

"Who are you?" she blurted, her voice rough and jumpy. How hard had she partied last night?

He paused and shifted so he could look at her. He was damn good looking, she noticed, but he didn't seem too impressed that she had forgotten his name.

_Forgotten? You probably never knew it. _She didn't even feel guilty about it anymore. Sometimes it was just better not knowing.

"Are you serious?" he asked, incredulous. Apparently he had shown Pan a good time. Shame she couldn't remember it.

"As a heart attack," she responded dryly. "Alcohol does that to me." She shifted away from him, clutching the sheets to her naked chest and ignoring the sharp throb between her brows at the movement. "I have to go into work, so you have to leave." She pulled herself to a sitting position, this time winching as her head throbbed and the room spun.

Pan looked over her shoulder as the mattress shifted and her one night stand crawled out of bed, very naked and very sexy. It was a shame she couldn't remember what had happened. It was also a shame that kicking such a desirable man out of her bed didn't disappoint her.

Pan watched him dress with mild interest. He didn't compare to Trunks.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She promised herself she would stop comparing the men she slept with to Trunks. It was a promise she had broken countless times. He wasn't missing her and she shouldn't be pining for him.

Pan released the breath she had been holding and her one night stand took it as a sign of impatience.

"Was I really that boring?" Her turned to her, half naked, eyes flashing.

Pan studied him for a moment. "Maybe. I don't remember." She lifted a shoulder, dismissing the question. With a shake of his head, Pan's one night stand shrugged on his shirt and left her room. She fell back against the mattress when the front door of her apartment slammed.

It was Saturday, she didn't need to go into work, but she didn't want to go another round with... whatever his name was. Scrubbing her hands across her face, Pan forced herself to a sitting position and did her best to ignore the throbbing behind her eyebrows. She tossed the sheet from her body and padded naked to the bathroom.

She turned the shower as hot as she could bear it and stepped under the pulsating stream. She took a deep breath and let the stream beat down on her face. It only made the headache worse but she needed to wake up. Pan bent her head only when she began to feel dizzy. The spray beat down on the nape of her neck as the steam billowed around her.

Five years. Five years since she had had _any_ contact with Trunks. When she had caught a glimpse of him on television she had turned it off. If she had seen him in a newspaper or magazine she had thrown it away without a second glance. She hadn't even sent a congratulatory card when his daughter had been born. She had thought about it, but she figured Marron wouldn't appreciate it, would probably even send it back.

So Pan had blocked Trunks out of her life for the past five years through sheer will, alcohol, sex, and work. She hadn't participated in any relationship, which made Marron's words echo in her mind every time she said goodbye to another one night stand. But it wasn't that she couldn't make a relationship work, she just didn't want to be in one. Right?

Pan opened her eyes when she realized her shoulders were going numb from the steady beat of the spray. With a sigh she turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. She grabbed a towel from the rack beside her and stepped across the bathroom to turn on the fan. It whirred quietly and Pan approached the sink, tucking the towel around her body.

She wiped her hand across the moisture on the mirror and sighed at the distorted image. Even with the steam fogging the glass, it was easy to tell that she looked like shit. She had lost quite a bit of weight over the past few years, due to the fact that she had been handling extremely stressful cases and wasn't eating properly. Though she had never really eaten properly, her case loads had never gotten to her like they had recently.

_Maybe it's because you miss Trunks._

"Shut up."

Pan closed her eyes, breathed deeply, then opened them again. The woman that stared back at her was thin, red-eyed, and pissed. Raking her hands through her soaking hair, Pan wrenched open the bathroom door and stomped into her bedroom, a strong of curses trailing in her wake..

---

Her secretary didn't come in on weekends, Pan liked it better like that. She didn't need to be informed of calls that she didn't want to take, she could just simply ignore the ringing. And that had become as easy as ignoring a fly buzzing against her window.

Thermos of coffee in one hand, Pan hitched her briefcase higher onto her shoulder. She pushed open her office door, expecting to find it quiet and empty, instead a figure stood illuminated in the morning light against her desk. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

"Good morning, Counselor."

Pan dropped her briefcase next to the coat rack, shrugged her jacket off, and draped it over a hook.

"'Morning, your Honor. What can I do for you?"

He smiled, leaning against her desk. He was an old man, as most judges were. His face was lined with wrinkles but there was always a smile in his eyes, whether in court or out. His hair had passed grey and gone directly to white but he still had plenty of it.

"I'm glad you're her, Ms. Son, I was afraid I was going to have to call you in on your day off. However, it's obvious you never really have a day off." He smiled at her and crossed his arms.

She smiled, approaching her desk and stepping behind it. She fiddled with the mess of papers that littered her desktop, slightly embarrassed that a man in the judge's position should see how untidy her workspace was.

"The state of your office doesn't concern me, Pan." He gave her a pointed look full of humor and her fingers quieted against the papers. She took a seat and smiled up at him.

"What can I do for you, then, your Honor?" She wrapped her hand around the thermos of coffee, took a sip.

"I'm assuming you haven't turned on the television lately?" He was readying himself to break some serious news to her, she could sense it. Pan shook her head, taking a large gulp of coffee before setting the thermos on her desk. "Capsule Corporation had been embezzled by one of it's workers for millions of dollars."

As the mention of anything related to Trunks was unexpected, Pan went tense in her seat, her eyebrows shooting up and her wide-eyed gaze turning on the judge. Luckily he interpreted her shock as concern that anyone would do such a thing.

"That's terrible, your Honor, but what does that have to do with me?" Pan rifled with the papers on her desk, desperate to find something to do with her hands. "My field is criminology, tax fraud and all that other number crunching detail isn't my specialty."

Realizing she looked like an idiot aimlessly pushing around the papers on her desk, Pan picked up her thermos again. She took another sip.

"I know that, Counselor. However, Mr. Briefs seems to think differently. He wants you to prosecute–" Pan choked on her mouthful of coffee, but the judge didn't notice. He was pacing her office now. "I informed him that there were other PAs more suited to his problem, but he wants you, and he's offered you a hefty sum to have you work his case. You can refuse, of course, but I believe it's in your best interest to prosecute the accused. Trunks Briefs is a powerful man, Ms. Son, I'm sure he'd pressure you into prosecuting anyway. Are you alright?" He asked as he turned to face Pan again. Her eyes were watering and her throat was burning. But Pan wasn't sure if that was from the coffee or the anger that was boiling somewhere in the pit of her stomach

Pan placed her coffee back on her desk, swallowed hard. She could prosecute, of course, and probably win, but did she want to face Trunks again? And what the hell did he want her help for anyway? He knew criminology was her field.

Out of curiosity she asked: "How much is he paying?" She dared not pick up her coffee.

The old judge smiled. "Five million, even."

"Holy shit."

---

Pan had just watched a full news broadcast for the first time in five years and it had been full of nothing but Trunks. He was as beautiful as ever and it was only enhanced by the fury in his eyes. Her name had been mentioned by several reporters and he had handled the questions easily.

"_Ms. Son is the best there is"_

"_But her specialty is criminology, this is embezzlement, a lot of number crunching. Can she handle it?"_

_A sleek smile. "Pan Son is as smart as she is beautiful, she won't have any problem with this case."_

Pan was entering the lobby of Capsule Corporation, running the Q&A she had seen on television over in her head. He had said she was beautiful, but there had been no emotion in his eyes, no concern, no care. It had reminded her of some of the criminals she had prosecuted, and it chilled her to the bone. But maybe that was just jealousy.

"Fuck off," she muttered to herself, stepping onto an elevator and jabbing the close button.

Pan tried to use the elevator to calm herself down, but that hadn't worked, especially when a woman screeching into her cell phone stepped onto the elevator six floors from Pan's stop.

Pan exited the elevator on the thirty-second floor, grinding her teeth. Her heels clicked against the ceramic tile, barely audible over the voices in the corridor and adjoining offices.

Trunks's office was at the very end of the corridor, guarded by a blonde secretary with a perky smile. She opened her mouth to address Pan, but Pan brushed by her desk, barged into Trunks's office, slammed the door and locked it before the blonde was out of her seat.

Some part of her had wished Marron had been there and she had been sitting in his lap, nibbling on his ear. Anything would have been better than Trunks simply sitting there, calmly smoking a cigarette and facing the door as though he had been expecting her.

He had, of course. He had known the news would be broken to her today, and he didn't doubt she had seen one of the many interviews on television. He had expected the anger, but that didn't mean he was prepared for it. He hadn't seen her in five years, for Christ's sake.

She simply stood there, black eyes raging, slim frame wrapped in a long coat. Underneath it was a turquoise blouse and black trousers. He didn't want to, but he noticed she was thinner than when he had last seen her.

"What in the _fuck_ are you doing?" she snarled, stepping forward. "You're involving me in something that has absolutely _nothing_ to with me. I deal with murderers and rapists, Trunks, not fucking dollar signs and tax receipts. Jesus, does Marron know you're doing this?" She raked a hand through her hair and Trunks found it hard to convince himself that he wasn't attracted to her anymore.

"The whole country knows about this, Counselor." He took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaled. "And I'm involving you in this because you're the best there is. That bastard stole from me and I want him to pay for it. I trust you to hand him the maximum penalty... which is?"

"25 to life," she answered absently, staring at the floor. Then she turned her gaze on Trunks. "I don't want your money, Trunks. Five million is a ridiculous amount of money."

He took another pull from his cigarette, studied her. "You'll get the suggested sum after you win my case. I want only the best on this case, Counselor, and you're exactly that. Even if you want to feed me that bullshit about your specialty being murderers and wife beaters. You have a wide range of talents, Ms. Son, and I don't believe this case will hinder any of them."

Five years ago Pan would sensed the sexual innuendo beneath that comment, but there was no suggestion in his voice, it was just a solid fact. And though she didn't want to, Pan felt the stab of hurt.

"Does it matter anyway?" he asked, stabbing his cigarette into the crystal ash tray in front of him. He directed his gaze to her own and Pan felt the jerk in her stomach, felt the hair on the nape of her neck stand on end. "Our relationship is purely business, isn't it?"

The casual dismissal hit home and Pan hated herself for feeling hurt. She shouldn't care, Trunks certainly didn't.

"The arraignment is next week, I'll start putting a case together on what we have, then work in what's usable and unusable after the accused's pre-trial. I'll be in touch, Mr. Briefs." Then she turned on her heal, wrenched open the door, and had vanished with the flick of her coat and a click of her heels against the polished tile.

Trunks closed his eyes, heaved a sigh, and reached for the package of cigarettes.

"Fuck," he murmured.

It was empty.

* * *

Apologies for the wait. The inspiration tank has been empty. And no guarantees that my legal terms are correct. The only brush I've had with the law was my Law 12 class in high school, and that was about a year ago. Good course though, teacher was funny... I digress. A special thanks to **Clara**, once again, _Love Her Madly_ was just what I needed. 


	5. Confession for the Prosecution

**A/N:** No, I'm not dead. Or even mortally wounded. I do have a pretty nasty paper cut though...

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Rated M for Language and Mature Sexual Content  
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**V. Confession for the Prosecution**

Pan sat in her home office, tapping the chewed end of her pen against the open folder in front of her. Her free hand was curled around a coffee mug. Staring absently across the dark room and out the picture window, Pan brought the mug to her lips and took a small sip of luke-warm coffee.

The sun had just set and a red line was visible along a horizon, punctuated by skyscrapers and neon lights. The city in front of her was switching over to it nightlife gears. The building which housed her law firm currently shone the brightest in the grey evening, and it would probably stay that way until Trunks' case came to a close.

Which shouldn't take that long according to her analysis. All incriminating evidence had been deemed admissible in court and she didn't see how a jury could _not_ find the accused guilty. And it didn't hurt that the victim was the richest man on the planet. Pan was also familiar with the judge, who had respect for her work.

The defense attorney was top dollar, but Pan had beaten him before. In a few weeks Pan would be able to get back to her life and forget all about Trunks and this case.

Absently, Pan flicked on the desktop lamp and picked up the papers in front of her. She read over the figures, eyebrows raised.

The man she was dealing with was no amateur, embezzling almost 3 million dollars from Trunks' company over the past three-and-a-half years. Pocket change to Trunks, Pan mused, but still a lot of money. It could have been three _dollars _and Trunks would have kicked him to the curb and made sure the man didn't work again.

Trunks Briefs was not a man to be messed with. Especially when it cam to money.

Pan had messed with his life and his marriage, and Trunks had only gone so far. Like a good businessman, Trunks knew where to invest. In Marron he had invested his life, his seed, _a child_. In Pan he had invested a few nights on an cold mattress in an abandoned warehouse.

Pan sighed heavily and blinked, realizing she wasn't digesting anything she was reading. She dropped the papers and rubbed her eyes. She needed a good night's sleep, but knew she wasn't going to get it.

Pan had promised herself that getting involved in this case with Trunks wouldn't stir up the past, stir up emotions and thoughts that were better left undisturbed. But she had broken that promise the first day the old judge had told her Trunks wanted her to prosecute his case.

Pan sat back in her chair and rubbed her hands over her face. Her eyes were burning from lack of sleep, but with sleep came dreams, and with dreams came Trunks. And she didn't want that.

_You want it, you just can't have it_, a voice in the back of her mind murmured.

Pan sighed and closed her eyes, wishing away the ringing in her ears. Did she want it? What exactly did she want? Did she want a real relationship with Trunks? Marriage? _Kids_? Pan didn't think she wanted any of that, but her dreams and thoughts were frequently related to Trunks. Why did she sleep with men and compare them to Trunks, _imagine_ they were Trunks?

Pan had been denying that she missed Trunks, denying that she wanted him in her bed again. And most of all denying that she was jealous that Trunks had chosen Marron over her.

She had always told herself that their affair was just that. An affair. No strings attached, no love, no intimacy, only passion and lust. But that was when their affair was going strong and they were having sex on a regular basis. He was only a phone call away.

Over the past five years it was as though she was going through withdrawal, like Trunks was a drug she just couldn't quit. She craved him more than she craved coffee and she had refused to admit it. She was reluctant to admit it now, but it was better than keeping it bottled up. Not that she thought getting it out would help her sleep better at night and allow her to have Trunks-free dreams.

No, Pan Son was not that naive.

But she had been quite naive to believe that she would feel no pain if Trunks had ever broken off the affair. Being shuffled to the sidelines and replaced by a slower, veteran player was painful. But the veterans usually got more playing time, and if someone had to be cut it was always the rookie. Marron was his wife, the woman he loved. Pan was just a source of pleasure, someone he'd call when he wanted a good time.

If Pan didn't care about commitment and relationships then why did that bother her? Why did Pan find herself imagining that the roles were reversed and she had been the pregnant wife, that she had had his baby?

_He certainly wouldn't have been fucking around if that was the case_, she thought.

It seemed that the old saying was true. You really didn't know what you had until it was gone. Or what you wanted, in Pan's case.

She had never thought about having children, had barely thought about having a husband. She was dedicated to her work, had always put her schooling before relationships. Which she had had very few of. And the ones which she had deemed relationships had always been about sex.

You'd go out to dinner or a movie to kill some time before you went back to his place and fucked until your were crossed-eyed. You dressed in short skirts, tight tops, and high heels to tease your lover, to see how long he would last before he was dragging you through the door and ripping your clothes off.

Most relationships were like that. Testing each other's boundaries, teasing and taunting with a sway of the hips and a light touch that left them wanting more.

Pan had done that. Did it make her any less of a woman? Did it make her a whore? A slut...

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, trying to numb the ringing in her ears and the degrading thoughts in her head.

"It's over, Pan, just let it go," she said to herself.

A loud knock jolted Pan to her senses. Her ears weren't ringing, the doorbell was.

She got to her feet and switched off the desk lamp, making her way to her office door in the dark. She closed the door and made her way down the dark hallway, flicking the overhead light on when she reached the living room. The rest of the condo was dark.

The loud knocking continued as she rounded the corner to the entranceway. "Jesus, calm down," she murmured, rolling her eyes.

She reached the door, checked the peep hole, and felt her heart rocket into her throat. She flicked the lock and wretched the door open.

"What the hell are you–" she paused mid-sentence, resisting the urge to take a step back as her eyes fell on the blonde child standing next to Trunks, holding his hand.

"–Doing here..." she managed to get out, eyes glued to what could only be Trunks and Marron's daughter.

The five-year-old was all smiles, blonde hair pulled into pigtails, baby-pink sundress spotless and wrinkle free. The spitting image of Marron and exactly how Pan thought a five-year-old _shouldn't_ look.

"Hi!" the little girl gushed. Pan mouthed soundlessly before turning a fiery gaze on Trunks, who was smiling easily.

"Evening, Counselor. You weren't sleeping, were you?"

"No," Pan said flatly, not bothering to keep the bite out of her voice.

"Good, so we'll just come in for a few minutes then. In you go, Mirin, wipe your feet."

Pan all but leapt back into the apartment, feeling as though it would be taboo to come in contact with the offspring of the woman she hated and the man she... wanted back in her life.

Pan left Trunks and his daughter in the entranceway and made her way to the kitchen. She flicked on the light and beelined for the coffee machine. She whisked the pot from it's warming plate, yanked open the cupboard door, and grabbed a mug. She was breathing heavily through her nose, trying desperately to calm herself down.

Trunks was in her home. With his daughter. _His fucking daughter_.

He had lost his mind, she was sure of it.

"You seem a little wound up, Counselor, is the case stressing you out?"

Ceramic cracked against marble as Pan's mug slammed down on the kitchen counter and she whirled around to face him. "What the hell are you doing here, Trunks? And with your _daughter_, of all people. Your marriage is toast when Marron finds out about this."

"Finds out?" Trunks snorted, pulling a package of cigarettes from the pocket of his blazer. "Do you mind?" he asked, proffering the box. Pan shook her head absently and he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and studying her intently as he exhaled toward the ceiling. "Counselor, Mirin is just like her mother. I give her something she wants and she keeps her mouth shut without protest."

"I don't care, Trunks. I don't want her here. I don't want her within five hundred feet of me. The last thing I need is Marron barging into my house and chewing me out for being near her daughter." She picked up her mug, took a swig of black coffee.

"I wanted to see you."

Pan choked on the coffee, forcing it down before turning to look at Trunks. He was staring her unblinkingly, cigarette smoldering at his side.

Pan placed her mug back on the counter and swallowed. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

The television blared to life and Pan jumped, whipping her gaze towards the living room. Mirin's head appeared over the back of the sofa.

"Cartoons, Daddy!" she giggled happily.

Pan turned her gaze back to Trunks, who was smiling at his daughter. "That's lovely, darling, but could you turn the volume down please."

The little girl smiled and obliged, disappearing behind the sofa.

"What do you want, Trunks?" Pan asked, not bothering to disguise the tiredness in her voice. "Why would you bring me into your life again when it wasn't necessary?"

"It _was_ necessary, Pan, you're the best PA I know and you'll make that bastard pay for stealing from me. I suppose I didn't expect myself to want you like I did five years ago." His eyes flicked over her body, but Pan disregarded it. Instead she found herself wondering if he had stopped wanting her for those five years while she had been desperately trying to stop thinking about him.

What was she to him? Eye candy? Something he only wanted when it was there, when he could look at her, have her next to him with little more than a phone call? She didn't plague his thoughts like he did hers. She was just a pretty face, a nice rack, somebody to twist the sheets with when things got boring at home.

It made her feel like shit, but she still wanted him. Seeing him standing in her kitchen smoking a cigarette made her want to kiss him, feel his body pressed against her own. But she didn't move. Instead she would just tell him how she felt, what she had been enduring these past five years. Maybe it would make him see that he was more than just a good lay to her.

Even if she didn't want him to be.

"I'm not going to be responsible for tearing your family apart, Trunks. I've spent the past five years thinking about you, wishing that every man I was with were you." She watched as his eyebrows arched. "You've ruined me for other men, because none of them stack up to you in bed. But I can't have you. You've got a family now. So I think it would just be better if you let me do my job and stayed out of my life."

An emotional confession. She could tell that he was mildly stunned. Pan Son didn't share her feelings with anyone. It's wildly reported that Pan Son didn't have feelings. Those accusations had never upset Pan until now.

"What did Marron say to you that day in your office?" Trunks asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the sound of cartoons wafting in from the living room.

"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked over a sigh.

Trunks studied her for a moment. "Because I think she said something to hurt your feelings, as strange as that sounds. Or I've said something to hurt you." He paused. "You've changed more than I thought, Pan. Since when have you ever admitted to being attracted to anyone?"

"Our whole affair has fucked with my mind. I was fine until you targeted me for your embezzlement case."

"I don't think you were fine at all."

"And what the hell do you know about me!" She felt the anger rise, felt her eyes burn. "Tell me something about myself Trunks. What's my favorite color? My favorite place to eat? What's my fucking eye color? I bet you don't even know that. You never saw me, Trunks, you saw an easy fuck, a night of fun! I didn't mean anything to you."

He was angry now as well, she could see it in his eyes, in the tenseness of his stance. "I thought that was all I was to you, Pan. I thought that's all we were suppose to be to each other. Just a bit of fun, a few–"

"That _was_ all it was suppose to be, but I can't help it if that's not what it turned out to be!"

"You could have done a lot to help it, Pan, you could have told me, for starters!"

"AND THEN WHAT?" It was the closest she had come to a scream in years. Her whole body was shaking. "What would you have done then, Trunks? Huh?"

He didn't have an answer for her.

"You wouldn't have done anything, things wouldn't be any different then they are now. I wouldn't be your wife, we wouldn't have a baby, a family. You'd still be with Marron, even if I had told you how I felt. Fuck, Trunks, I didn't know how I felt until you were gone." She wiped her sleeve over her eyes, tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "It's over now, it doesn't matter how I felt or how you felt. What's done is done."

It was probably the first time Trunks didn't have anything to say. The cigarette had burnt out in his fingers and the ashes littered the floor.

"Daddy?" Mirin had abandoned the television and stood in the entranceway to the kitchen teary-eyed and looking frightened. Trunks immediately turned his attention away from Pan and onto his daughter.

"Mirin," he comforted, crouching down and brushing the tears away with his thumbs. "It's alright, nothing's wrong."

Pan closed her eyes and looked away. She leaned back against the counter and covered her face with her hands as Trunks soothed his upset child. Listened as she asked to go home and see her Mommy, and Trunks suggested they go and get some ice cream.

"I'll see you later, Counselor."

Pan didn't say anything, didn't even remove her hands from her face. She listened as they left, as Mirin asked to be picked up and Trunks obliged. The door slammed, and they were gone.

Pan sunk to the floor of her kitchen and let herself cry.

She was alone. But then again, that wasn't anything new.

* * *

_Um... not sure when the next update will be, hopefully it won't take as long as this one did. I've been having some writing issues and haven't really been writing much at all. Scratch that, I haven't been writing _anything_ at all. Hopefully this update is the first of many._


	6. Charged With Possession

**A/N:** Oh. My. _Gawd_. The seas have parted and someone's walked on water. It's a miracle. Lady Anarchy's updated. Let's all go sacrifice a virgin so she'll update again. Or, you know, just say thank you or whatever. Whichever you prefer...

**P.S**.: It's not edited. Barely proofread. Cool? Cool.

_

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_

_Rated M for Language and Mature Sexual Content_

* * *

**VI. Charged With Possession**

Pan sat at her desk, the late afternoon sun shining through the picture window. A steaming mug of coffee sat next to. She was wide awake and didn't need the coffee at the moment, except maybe to warm her up. She hadn't been warm since the last night she had been with Trunks.

She tapped the chewed end of her pen against the lip of her mug, stared down at the white papers in the manila folder.

She couldn't concentrate. She had barely kept her cool after seeing Trunks in court for the whole week. She had been sure that she would blow it, lose her composure and just break down. Give up and slump down in her chair in front of the whole court. She could imagine the judge asking her what was wrong.

"_Nothing, your Honor, I'm just in love with the man whom I'm defending. Not to mention that five years ago I was fucking him on the side."_

Yes, that would be just _lovely_.

Pan dropped her pen onto the open folder and sighed, leaned back in her chair. Could she go on like this? Could she finish this case without losing herself? What would happen if the fact that she had slept with Trunks reached the media?

That was impossible, of course. No, not impossible. _Unlikely, unfortunate_. Pan had thought falling in love with Trunks had been impossible. She didn't have any faith in that word anymore.

She turned her chair around, away from her work, and squinted out at the setting sun, the gleaming glass on the endless buildings. Somewhere out there Trunks was celebrating an excellent beginning to his lawsuit, sipping bourbon with his colleagues, maybe talking to Marron on the phone, maybe even Mirin.

It hurt Pan to think about the child. She didn't want to admit it was jealousy that made her stomach roll. Did she really wish she had had a child with Trunks? Did she want to be his wife?

She kept telling herself that she just missed the sex, that amazing sex. No other man had been good enough. Or maybe she just pretended they weren't good enough, shut her mind off while she was in bed with them and convinced herself that he sex was horrible.

Pan rubbed her temples, sighed again. She closed her eyes, trying to fight back the dull throb of a brewing headache. All this thinking wasn't good for her. It was OK to stay up at all hours thinking about your work.. It wasn't OK to toss and turn wishing the man who was only supposed to be for fun was next to you... holding you.

Loving Trunks was a weakness. Pan hated feeling weak.

She got to her feet suddenly, angry. She bit her lip, ran a hand through her hair. This needed to stop, she needed to end this once and for all. She'd go see him. He was in town for the trial and with Marron hours away at home with Mirin she could talk to him without worry.

With determination she slammed the folder on her desk shut and strode confidently out of the room.

---

The bar she sat at was so spotless Pan could see her reflection in it. The alcohol was ridiculously overpriced, the music was rich and so was the talk.

She had already been approached countless times. Many were older men, retired judges and lawyers congratulating her on a great start to the trial of the century. The other half were young, attractive, and undoubtably rich men looking to fuck the city's leading PA.

Well, that was how Pan had seen them anyway.

Maybe it was the red cocktail dress. Why had she worn it? Who was she looking to impress?

Pan knew the answer to that but she wasn't going to admit to herself, or anybody else, what it was.

She sipped her scotch–hoping desperately that it would ward off the horny men–and stared at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar, distorted by the countless bottle of expensive liquor. Her hair was pinned up loosely yet attractively, the swell of her breasts exposed tastefully by the dress. The single diamond that hung between her breasts sparkled in the flattering light.

Pan didn't look as though she was asking for it, but she certainly felt like she was.

But since she was only asking for it from one man did that make it any better? Well, it made her feel a little better.

She swallowed the rest of her scotch in one gulp, enjoyed the way it burned her throat and warmed her stomach. She was trying to fortify herself, figure out what the hell she was doing in the bar of the hotel Trunks was staying at, working up the nerve to go up to his room.

She had already confirmed with the receptionist that he was indeed in, relaxing with room service. Pan had fed her a line about going over something to do with the case. _Yes, in this sexy red cocktail dress. Nothing at all suspicious about that_.

"Counselor?"

_Oh sweet Jesus._

Pan didn't spin around, but she saw the shocked look on her face just past the bottle of Grand Marnier, saw Trunks' distorted image as well.

She didn't turn to look at him until he took the stool next to her. The bartender was in front of him in seconds but Trunks waved him off with a flick of his slender wrist. Pan tried desperately to slow her thundering heart, convince her lips to move and form words. But she hadn't been expecting him, she was like a deer caught in the headlights.

He was staring at her, studying her. And even though he hid it well, she knew he was shocked to see her there.

He was dressed in a suit, as usual, but he wasn't wearing a tie. The first button of his shirt was open. She couldn't figure out why that was so sexy.

"What are you doing here?"

It was one of those rare times that Trunks lost his bearings and blurted out things like the average person.

"Drinking," Pan said, hoping she sounded smooth and composed, despite the fact that her glass was empty. She placed it on the bar and folded her hands in her lap. She could feel them shaking.

Trunks nodded. That slow, inquisitive nod that she's seem him do so many other times, usually when he was naked on the mattress in that warehouse, smoking and watching her get dressed. She'd speak and he'd nod with detached interest, more focused on her body.

But now it was different, he seemed to be searching her, trying to find out the true reason why she was there. So she told him.

"I wanted to see you," she said, realizing it was the same thing he had said to her that day in her apartment. She hoped this conversation wouldn't end the way that one had.

"We'll talk in my room," he said, slipping off the stool. "Come on," he took her arm and she sucked in a breath, her heart slammed against her ribs. He released her arm when she had gotten to her feet and a wave of emptiness swept over her. It was hard to walk, her knees felt the rubber.

They rode the elevator alone in awkward silence, nothing but the tinkle of music for company. Pan could feel the distance between them, knew this was a bad idea. She wanted to cry. She'd never wanted to cry this much before.

They stepped off the elevator into a deserted hallway with plush carpeting. Pan trained her gaze on the double-doors at the end of the hallway, knowing very well that it was Trunks' room.

He dug a card key out of his pocket as they walked. One swipe and they were inside the suite.

"Pan, what are you–"

She did it. Pushing all thought to the side she grabbed Trunks by the lapels of his jacket and pulled her body against his, covered her mouth with his.

Her heart leapt as his lips responded to her own, took over as he pushed her back against the door, hiked up the hem of her dress to squeeze her ass. She moaned into his mouth, dug her fingers into his hair as he pressed his body firmly, roughly against her.

Pan's body shuddered when she felt the hardness of an erection against her abdomen.

But the confidence she was building shattered when he jerked away from her, pushed her away. If she hadn't been up against the door she would have stumbled backward. She could feel the lingering pressure of his hand against her shoulder.

He looked away, ran a hand through his hair as he inhaled deeply.

"I'm not doing this, Pan," he said.

He didn't say _can't_. _Not_. It was final. He wasn't tempted to sleep with her again. He didn't need her anymore.

Pan felt her lip quivering as she stared at him. He stared back intently, firmly.

Her lips were moving but she didn't know what to saw. Somehow she had known all along that this was going to happen, that the only thing he would give her if she came here was rejection. She knew it, but she didn't want to believe it. So here she was, shot down by the man who at one time couldn't resist her body.

"I love you," she said. A last resort, one last plea. Pan couldn't believe she had said it. It sounded desperate, fake, but that wasn't how it felt. She just wanted him to understand.

But he was shaking his head and Pan could feel her heart breaking. Why was she doing this? Why had she even come here?

"I don't love you, Pan," he said, slowly shaking his head. "I just... I loved your body, I guess. I loved the adventure of our sex. Marron and I have a child. I love her."

She closed her eyes. She didn't need to hear him say that. As if this wasn't painful enough. Marron's words hung in her mind, the ones she had spoken that day she had arrived with the pictures. _...a woman like you...__ if it wasn't Trunks you were screwing it would be some other one night stand..._

Marron was right. She wasn't worth anything to Trunks. She wasn't wife material. She wasn't... anything.

Pan felt the tears but there were no sobs, no crying. Just tears.

"Pan, you're overreacting."

She wanted to punch him, hurt him like he had hurt her. But she didn't, couldn't. She just stared at him as he looked at her, _pitied her_.

She couldn't look at him anymore.

She groped for the door handle and flung the door open when she found it, striding down the hall as quickly as her heels and her blurry vision would allow. She heard him call her name but she didn't stop and he didn't chase her.

Pan collapsed in the elevator with one shuddering sob, covered her wet face with her hands.

That was it. Closure. It was over, Trunks had closed the curtain on their final act.

It wasn't supposed to feel like this. She wasn't supposed to love him. Pan Son wasn't supposed to love anyone.

She couldn't remember feeling pain like this, so empty and cold.

Sitting there alone in that elevator, black mascara staining her pale cheeks, the straps of her dress hanging off her shaking shoulders... Pan Son wanted to die.

* * *

_One more chapter, maybe? Not promising when I'll update because then I'll just break it. But I _will_ finish it... eventually._


	7. The Verdict

_Rated M for Language and Mature Sexual Content_

**VII. The Verdict**

* * *

She was the first one out of the courtroom, pulling her long black hair from under the jacket she had just shrugged on. Since she was the last person they expected to leave the courtroom, not the first, the reporters and news personnel didn't pounce, taking several seconds to register that the woman striding down the large marble corridor was indeed Prosecuting Attorney Pan Son.

She was checking messages on her cell phone when a breathless reporter finally caught up to her. She could hear the camera man huffing just behind her, lugging the heavy equipment. "Ms. Son, did you win? Will the accused be spending the rest of his life in a cell? Did he receive the maximum sentence?"

Pan slanted her gaze at the reporter, who was wide-eyed and expectant, holding a microphone under Pan's nose. "What the hell do you think?" Pan snapped, holding her phone to her ear to listen to her voice mail. The reporter seemed shocked by her response. That was typical. Pan wasn't familiar with this reporter. She snapped her phone closed on her father's hello and listened to the hallway behind her erupt in a smothering cloud of voices and clapping.

That would be Trunks leaving the courtroom with a big grin on his face.

Pan didn't turn around.

She slammed her way out of the courthouse and into the fresh air and sunny afternoon. There were no reporters or cameramen out here. Yet. If you wanted the good stuff you found a way to get inside.

"Well, well. If it isn't the infamous Pan Son. The city's best PA and the world's biggest bitch."

Well, almost no reporters.

"You're a close second, Shoga," Pan acknowledged the woman who stepped out from behind one of the large white supports with a nod of her head.

The fiery red head smirked, blue eyes dancing behind thick-framed but stylish glasses. Her skirt suit was too raunchy for her line of work but Shoga didn't care. Maybe that was one of the reasons Pan liked her so much.

"Something's had the city's leading PA on edge the last few weeks and I want to know what it is." Shoga took a step forward and Pan noticed she wasn't carrying a microphone and wasn't accompanied by a cameraman. Pan's eyes narrowed.

"You wired, Shoga?"

"You know I don't play dirty, Pan."

Pan snorted. Shoga smiled. "Well, not with you, anyway."

She cocked her head to the side and gave Pan a serious look. "Our careers aside, what's going on?"

"Who are you now, my mother?" Pan asked before beginning her ascent of the large courthouse steps. The Press wasn't going to hang around inside much longer.

"No. You wouldn't discuss this shit with your mother." Pan couldn't help but smile at that.

"Maybe, but it's not something I discuss with reporters either. In fact, it's not something I'd discuss with anyone." She had almost reached the bottom of the steps when Shoga said:

"There's been a rumor going around that there's some thick tension between you and Mr. Briefs."

Pan paused mid-step but didn't turn around.

She knew Shoga wasn't smiling. The woman was smart and Pan knew she assumed it was sexual tension. And if there were any implications made, however small, that Pan had been involved with a client it would cost her her job. Shoga knew that was no laughing matter.

"Any rumors as to why there's tension?" Pan asked, still not turning around.

"No, but judging from the tapes I've seen you're seriously pissed off at him. Which doesn't make sense, since you took this case."

"Maybe I wanted the money," Pan said as she turned around, squinting up at Shoga."

The red-head shrugged. "Maybe. Five mill is a lot of cash for one case, even for the city's best. But I don't think you took the case because of the money.

"So why did you take it if you're so pissed at him? You've looked fit to kill these last few weeks. You're even more snappish than usual. Doesn't make sense to help out a guy you're pissed at. Better to let him suffer with a less that perfect PA."

Pan studied Shoga for a moment, wondering why she was beating around the bush. Pan knew what this was about. Someone was bound to notice sooner or later. But if Shoga was going to play stupid, so was Pan.

"Guess I did it for the money then." She shrugged and turned away again.

"Did you sleep with him?"

Expecting it, Pan didn't pause, but she took the last two steps slowly and stopped when she reached street level.

"No," she said as she turned around to look at Shoga again. "We didn't sleep, we fucked. Happy now? You've got the story of the year."

Pan could tell that Shoga was thoroughly shocked at Pan's confession. But to Pan it felt good to finally tell someone.

"How do you know I won't go public with this?" Shoga said, her voice not at all confident anymore. Pan had thoroughly shocked the unmovable Shoga.

It was Pan's turn to shrug now. "I don't. But I have a feeling you won't. I'm even sure I'd care if you did."

"Your job–"

"Fuck my job. I could move out of this hell hole and get a job in another city. With my recs they won't care who I've slept with. And if it hurts Trunks and that stupid bitch than I don't care what it does to me."

"Ouch. You must really–"

Shoga was interrupted as the courthouse doors burst open behind them and a wave of people cascaded out of the building. She turned her gaze back to Pan. "Coffee?"

Pan smiled. "Beer. And you're buying."

Shoga smiled. "I'll buy you a keg if you promise to tell me more."

---

"Since when do you smoke?" Shoga asked over a loud roar that came from inside the bar. She and Pan were positioned outside the sports bar beneath the shade of a large umbrella. Pan had her feet propped up on the table, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

Pan exhaled, didn't look at Shoga. "I've been smoking for a long time, Shoga, I just didn't realize it," she said quietly, turned her gaze back to the reporter as she snuffed out her cigarette in the ash tray provided.

Shoga nodded, understanding as she took a sip of her beer. She studied Pan, who was at the moment tracing the rim of the ash tray and avoiding her gaze.

"I don't think it was stupid, Pan," she said at last.

Pan lifted her eyebrows, wet her lips before bringing the beer to them. She took a long swig before she spoke. "My actions weren't stupid, no. I wanted to have sex with him and I took what I wanted. My feelings were stupid. Falling in love with him was stupid. Almost idiotic. I don't do stupid things, Shoga."

The redhead smiled. "Smoking is stupid, but I suppose that depends on your opinion."

Pan returned the smile, stared at the ashes in the ash tray. "It's better than being addicted to him, Shoga. An addiction to heroin or cocaine would be better than being addicted to Trunks. Maybe smoking, alcohol, and anger are stupid ways to get over him but it's working."

Pan finished off the rest of her beer, set in on the table with a light snap. She pushed herself to her feet, grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair as another cheer erupted from within the bar. "Thanks for listening, Shoga. I appreciate it."

Shoga smiled. "Wow. A thank you. That must have hurt."

"Fuck you," Pan grinned, shrugged on her jacket. "See you around."

Shoga smiled, watched Pan walk away and sipped her beer contemplatively. When the dark-haired woman turned a corner and vanished from her sight, she turned her gaze onto her beer. She picked absently at the label.

She had failed to mention that Pan's smoking was probably a substitute for Trunks and everything he had given to her. And she to him. Pan didn't like getting burned. But then again, she usually didn't get close enough to be burned. She couldn't have Trunks so she smoked, one of his habits.

Every time she lit a cigarette and inhaled she was with him in her mind, Shoga knew, even if Pan didn't.

Filling the void. Shoga wasn't sure how well it would work.

Maybe Trunks was the only thing in the world Pan Son couldn't get over.

Maybe he was the only thing in the world Pan Son _wouldn't_ get over.

While Shoga sipped her beer, on the other side of town Trunks sat in his limo with his assistant who was rattling off meetings while slipping in exuberant comments about the trial. Trunks barely heard him. He stared out the tinted window as they pulled away from the courthouse.

"Mr. Briefs . . . ? Mr. Briefs."

"Yes?" Trunks glanced over at his assistant who was eyeing him skeptically.

"Would you like us to stop and get you something to eat, sir?"

Trunks stared at him for a moment before looking back out the window at the passing buildings.

"Coffee. Coffee would be perfect."

* * *

_Alas, it's over. Told you I would finish it. Eventually. No more chaptered stories in the works. Maybe a one shot or two in the near future._

_I thank you for reading. And for your incredible patience._


End file.
